


Scribbles

by orphan_account



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:16:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura discovers that Carmilla has been visiting an old friend to tell her the story of how the vampire and the human fell in love. But... why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scribbles

 Carmilla walks up the path to the front door, and looks around. The place looks the same from the last time she was here. White paint on the outer walls, clean windows, a well maintained lawn. A bright and cheerful appearance, overall. She adjusts the strap off her backpack on her shoulder, opens the door, and steps inside.

A few feet away from the front door is a desk, and behind that desk sits a blond woman with fair skin, the same woman from the last time Carmilla was here. The nametag on her blouse reads Beca, although Carmilla does not need to read the nametag to know that. The vampire is on a first name basis with most of the people in the building.

Beca looks up, alerted by the sound of the door opening, notices Carmilla standing there, and smiles. “Good evening Carmilla,” she greets, “she’s in the garden today. It’s around the back.” Beca nod towards the doorway on the left, which Carmilla knows opens to a short hallway, which in turn leads to the dining room, where the sliding door opening up into the garden at the back is located.

“Thanks,” Carmilla says, giving Beca a small smile. She walks through the hallway, through the dining room, and out into the garden. It does not take long for her to find the person she is looking for. She makes her way to the figure in the wheelchair slowly, her boots clacking resolutely on the smooth stone path.

A man is standing next to the figure in the wheelchair. _One of the staff_ , Carmilla thinks, and the man turns around at the sound of her boots and Carmilla realizes that she is right.

“Hey, I’m Thomas,” the man says, holding out a hand. Carmilla shakes it, and Thomas continues, “She woke up early from her afternoon nap, so I just thought I’d take her out and let her get some sun after she had an early dinner.” The edges of Thomas’s coffee-coloured eyes crinkle when he smiles.

“But now that you’re here,” Thomas says, releasing Carmilla’s hand, “I’ll just give the two of you some time alone. I’ll be around if you need anything.” He gestures with his hand to indicate the surrounding areas.

Carmilla nods her thanks at him, and waits for him to go. She looks around, taking in the sights, before going to sit on the cast iron bench that the wheelchair is parked next to.

The garden is a beautiful place. There is a small pond, around which several benches are situated. There are little reflexology pads near the stone paths, as well as shrubs and flower bushes located in and around the entire garden. The whole environment is very Zen-like.

She sits on the cast iron bench, facing the figure in the wheelchair, who is, in fact, a woman. The woman’s graying hair falls in gentle waves over her shoulders, and her eyes are misty as she glances down at her wrinkled hands, not seeming to notice Carmilla’s presence.

“Hey,” Carmilla says gently, taking one of the woman’s hands in hers. “It’s me. Do you remember who I am?” The question is not a harsh one, but a quiet, tentative one, because Carmilla knows that the answer will be no. It has always been no, at this time.

The woman stares at Carmilla for a while, as if trying very hard to see who she is, then shakes her head. “I don’t know who you are,” she says somewhat fearfully, and a little sadly. She looks quite tempted to pull her hand away from Carmilla’s.

“It’s okay, I’m a friend,” Carmilla reassures her quickly, but gently places the hand she was holding back onto the woman’s lap. She does not want this woman to fear her, or to be uncomfortable in her presence. Instead, Carmilla unslings the backpack from her shoulder, and opening it, retrieves a leather bound book.

“Would it be okay if I told you a story?” the vampire asks the woman softly.

The woman’s eyes brighten considerably at this, as she loves stories. She nods eagerly, and just for a moment, Carmilla can see a light in her eyes, a semblance of who she used to be when she was younger.

The brunette opens the leather bound journal to the first page and runs her eyes over the words on the paper. The words are written in black ink, scribbled in neat lines across pages and pages of paper. Laura always said Carmilla’s handwriting is an elegant cursive, but to Carmilla it just looks like scribbles.

The vampire clears her throat, and making sure she had the attention of the woman in the wheelchair, she begins to tell a story, occasionally glancing down at the words in the leather bound book, even though she does not need to. She remembers this story by heart. She has lived this story, and she does not need to words on a page to help her tell it.

And so Carmilla starts to speak.

She speaks of a human named Laura, and of her recklessness, and her flaming self-respect, and her unwavering determination to do the right thing. She tells of how Laura would not back down from her university’s oppressive administration, how she tried her best to solve the mystery of the missing girls on campus. She talks of how Laura inspired the people around her to rise up and to help, and of how her friends Danny, LaFontaine, Perry and Kirsch eventually defeated the evil Dean of Students, who happened to be the head of a vampire cabal that was sacrificing co-eds to an ancient Sumerian demigod.

And Carmilla also speaks of the part that Laura played in her own life, of how she started to fall for Laura the moment she uttered those four words “even you deserve better”, of how the human convinced the vampire to finally take a stand against her evil adopted mother, of how she willingly went into an ocean to retrieve a magical sword, of how she did all that heroic vampire crap, and of how she did it all for Laura.

“And I’m still doing it for you,” Carmilla whispers in a broken voice. She watches as the light slowly comes back into the woman’s eyes with every word that leaves Carmilla’s mouth. She watches as recognition fills Laura’s eyes as they finally settle upon the vampire, seeing her clearly for the first time that day.

“Carm?” Laura, seventy two year old Laura, with her graying hair and her wrinkled hands, asks in a small voice, reaching her hands out slowly towards the brunette.

“I’m here, cupcake,” Carmilla replies, slipping her trademark smirk onto her face, as she grasps Laura’s hands in hers. “Always have been, always will be.”

“I have no idea why I couldn’t recognize you just now,” Laura says, only this time it sounds to Carmilla as if it is the nineteen year old Laura Hollis speaking, young, tenacious journalism student, instead of seventy two year old Laura Hollis, senior citizen living in a nursing home.

“Don’t worry about it, creampuff,” Carmilla says easily, as if this is not the first time she has had to go through this. As if this is not the first time she has had the love of her life forget who she was, only to remember her after being told the story of their life together. “Did you miss me?”

"What do you think?" Laura replies teasingly, before pausing for a moment. "At first I didn't remember you and then you told me our story, and the pieces all just sort of... clicked together." 

"It's been known to happen, sundance," Carmilla responds before hurriedly but inconspicuously changing the topic. She does not want Laura to ask why she could not remember Carmilla, or how many times had Carmilla had to tell her their story before she remembered her. Thankfully enough, Laura's journalism instincts has toned down over the years, and she does not pursue the issue.

So they slip into a comfortable, flirty banter, Carmilla and Laura, and it feels just like old times, when Laura was biologically younger. Their hours-long conversation is filled with reminisces and updates, all with an underlying current of tenderness.

Before long, the sun begins to set, and Thomas, still nearby but yet maintaining a respectful distance, nods to Carmilla solemnly. Carmilla returns the nod, places the journal back in her and backpack and turning to Laura, asks her with a wink, “What’d you say we adjourn to your room, cutie?”

Laura says nothing but smiles slyly in return, the wrinkles in the corners of her eyes more evident than before, and Carmilla takes that as a yes. She gets up from the bench and starts to wheel Laura away from the pond and out of the garden, into the home, down a hallway, until they reach Laura’s room, the route to which Carmilla has memorized by now.

When they get to the room, Laura shows visible signs of being tired. _It’s the age,_ Carmilla realizes with a sinking feeling in her heart. _It’s catching up with her._

But she does not allow her feelings to show on her face. So she slips a sly smile onto her face and picks Laura up from the wheelchair, bridal style.

“Erm, excuse me, but what the hell are you doing?” Laura may be seventy two years old but she lost none of the fire she had in her from the first day the both of them met.

“I’m carrying you to the bed, duh,” Carmilla replies with a raised eyebrow, before proceeding to do so.

“I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of walking,” Laura huffs at her,crossing her arms across her chest as she tenses up in Carmilla’s arms.

Carmilla does not say anything until she has slowly lowered Laura onto the bed. She pulls her left arm out from underneath Laura’s knees, but keeps her right one underneath Laura’s neck, before climbing onto the bed with her.

“I know, cupcake,” she whispers as she leans in close to Laura. “I just wanted to hold you for a bit, that’s all.”

Carmilla knows that her time with Laura is limited. And she wants to make the most of it as she can.

Laura considers this for a moment, then seems to accept the explanation, and moves in closer to Carmilla. They stay for a moment like that, holding each other, feeling as if nothing has changed a bit. Then Laura mumbles a few words.

“Carm, I’m sleepy.”

“Well, you can always sleep. You are on a bed, after all.”

“Will you still be here when I wake up?”

Carmilla looks down into Laura’s eyes as the question is posed to her, and in her head it feels like an eternity as she debates between which answer to give. But she knows that in reality, no time at all has passed between the question and the answer that she supplies without missing a beat. “Of course I will, creampuff. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” She grins.

Laura nods and yawns and Carmilla thinks to herself that it is still the most adorable sight she has ever seen, no matter what age Laura is. Laura closes her eyes and snuggles even more comfortably into the vampire’s arms and Carmilla continues to hold the human, listening to her breathing. Laura falls completely asleep, but Carmilla does not. She does not even come close to sleeping. Instead she spends the time gazing at Laura. She gazes at her face, memorizing every line and every contour. She takes note of peaceful Laura looks when she is sleeping, and how beautiful she is, as always. And as always, in her heart Carmilla silently thanks the circumstances that have brought Laura into her life.

After an hour of Laura sleeping, Carmilla gently removes her arm from underneath Laura and slowly gets off the bed. She knows what will happen in a few minutes, and she does not want to make things awkward.

She pulls up one of the armchairs in the room to the bedside, sits in it, and waits. She debates taking one of Laura’s hands in hers, just so she can feel her touch again, but decides against it.

A few minutes later, like clockwork, Laura’s eyes open slowly. She looks around blearily, until her gaze settles on Carmilla. “Hi,” Laura says, and for a moment Carmilla hopes against hope that the next few words that comes out of Laura’s mouth will be different from what they have been for the last five years.

But they are not.

“I don’t recognize you,” Laura says slowly. “Are you new here?”

And Carmilla’s heart breaks into what she feels are a million little pieces. _Break is too mild a word_ , Carmilla thinks to herself. _Shattered. Crushed. Destroyed. Decimated. Annihilated._ Any one of these words would better describe how she feels whenever Laura does not remember who she is.

Not wanting to confuse or upset her human, she again slips on a smile on her face before answering. It is a polite, courteous smile, the kind that customer service representatives give to a client, and it fits the next few words that come out of Carmilla’s mouth. She makes it fit.

“No, I was just about to go,” she chokes out. And she gets out of the armchair, turns around, and exits the room, leaving a bewildered Laura behind her.

Visiting hours are almost over at the nursing home, and as much as Carmilla wants to, she cannot tell Laura the whole story to make her remember again. She only has the time to do it once a day.

_But it’s okay,_ Carmilla tells herself as she walks out of the home, giving Beca a small smile as she leaves. She will come back to the home tomorrow and see Laura. The whole cycle will repeat. She will tell Laura the story, Laura will remember who she is, and they will talk and laugh (sometimes of and about the same things they have talked and laughed about before), they will go to bed, Laura will fall asleep in her arms, and Laura will wake up. With no memory of who Carmilla is or what she means to her. This will happen again and again, just like how it has happened for the past five years, just like how it will keep happening for as long as Laura lives.

Because as much as it hurts to have those brown eyes look at her blankly with no memory of who she is, to Carmilla, those few hours with Laura and holding her as she fall asleep are worth it. Even if she has to read a story from the scribbles in her journal to achieve that.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know why I wrote this. Just curious to see how the idea would turn out, I guess. Yes, this fic is based on the movie adaptation of The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks. Carmilla would probably kill me if she knew I wrote her into something like this. Oh well.
> 
> What'd you think? Let me know. :) Thanks for reading!
> 
> I have a Tumblr if you guys wanna come talk! cactusjuiceinspired.tumblr.com :)  
> Feedback and constructive criticism is/will be appreciated!


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